


stars in your eyes, flowers in my heart

by cosmicrhetoric



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, also introducing my newest crackship: kaltain/nehemia, coffee shop AU, lmao yall i really did this, tog mini bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8037211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicrhetoric/pseuds/cosmicrhetoric
Summary: Aelin Galathynius runs Stag and Stars Coffee with an iron fist. She has a happy existence, complete with a barista who can mix teas like no one else, and an in house baker who keeps night hours, and regulars from the law school down the street. The only deterrent is their competition-the fancy organic boutique café across the street, Doranelle Café, and it’s manager, surly Rowan Whitethorn. Everyone at Stags and Stars hates Doranelle with a vengeance, especially Aelin. So when one of their main investing companies gets bought by Doranelle’s parent company, there are suddenly changes to be made to Stag and Stars. Suddenly Rowan Whitethorn is in her face, telling Aelin how to do her job, and it doesn’t seem like it’s bringing many customers in. Thankfully, she’s not very good at being told what to do.





	stars in your eyes, flowers in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys this is basically why i haven't posted anything in like a month  
> it was for the tog mini bang, and I parterned with the amazing taratjah and bonzarr, who drew art for the fic.
> 
> You can find the art here:[taratjah](http://taratjah.tumblr.com/post/150416508165/a-throne-of-glass-coffee-shop-au-with-a-fic) | [bonzarr](http://bonzarr.tumblr.com/post/150410182552/hey-guys-this-is-my-contribution-to-the-throne-of)

**stars in your eyes, flowers in your heart**

 

_Aelin began everyday of her perfect existence by flipping off the cafe right across from hers._

It was spring, Manhattan was hers, and the delicately curling metal decals on the pretentious ass cafe were glinting, practically _taunting her_ to stick her middle finger up in the air. In solidarity.

The man watering the winding hanging plants and climbing roses that covered the front of the store rolled his eyes at her.

“Real mature!”

“Fuck off!” she sang, pushing the door to a shop as perfect as she was-Stag and Stars Coffee, “Ruining Starbucks's Day Since 2008”.

At least, that's what she wanted their tag line to be.

She wasn't the first to arrive, that day. Normally, Aelin opened and closed the store, arriving early and staying late. Today, however, one of her baristas was already behind the counter, mixing a tea for a hunched over woman at the bar.

“Hey hon,” said Lysandra, leaning over to quickly kiss Aelin's cheek as she poured a red liquid into a throwaway plastic cup.

“Hey, Lys.” said Aelin, ducking behind the counter and slipping on an apron. She leaned over the woman at the bar, her head pillowed by her arms as she dozed. “Faliq.”

“Galathynius.” replied the woman sleepily.

“Are my-”

“Yes, your tarts have been baked, I'm done for the night, let me _sleep_.”

“Thank you, girl.” said Aelin, lightly patting their baker on the head. She turned to Lysandra, just in time to watch the barista spoon three heaping helpfuls of white powder into the red mixture. Aelin made a face, but Lysandra simply shook the drink again, and served it with a flourish to Nesryn, who perked up slightly at the sight of it.

“Is that my cherry rose tea?”

“Yup.”

Nesryn grabbed at the cup, looking at it suspiciously. “You didn't put any calcium supplements like last time, right?”

“No!” cried Lysandra, looking offended.

“Vitamin D?”

“ _No,_ Nesryn.”

“Did you crush up a multivitamin?” asked Nesryn, squinting at the liquid.

“Drink the tea, Nesryn.”

The baker complied, taking a long drink from it. Aelin pulled Lysandra aside as she plugged in their french press.

“Girl's got biceps, and she doesn't eat nearly as many vegetables as she should.” said Lys in a whisper. “Her muscles will thank me later. It was protien powder and crushed up chia seeds”

“Lys,” said Aelin, exasperated. “You had a chocolate cake for dinner last week.”

“ _Yeah_ , but Nesryn's actually buff. And she does _sports_. She has to commit.”

Aelin glanced back at their friend, and nodded. She _was_ uncommonly buff.

“How long till we open?” asked Nesryn, visibly more awake.

“Six minutes.” said Aelin. “Come on, final floor check.”

[All three women surveyed the S&S floor, making sure the dark wooden tables and chairs were _just_ the right amount of chaos. Aelin turned on the lamps, providing soft yellow lighting against the dark wood paneling of the rest of the store. There was an alcove in a corner, with low bookshelves and tables for one. And of course, by the bar counter, five stools in the same green, gold, and mahogany detailing the rest of the store carried.The place looked like a bookstore that had been taken over by coffee enthusiasts and bean bag chairs.

“Ready to open?” asked Aelin, looking around fondly at the store front.

“Ready to open.” said Lysandra. “Nes?”

“Right.” said Nesryn, walking behind the counter and positioned herself at the kitchen door. “Ready.”

The bell attached to the door rang in fifteen minutes in. Aelin glanced up, the strongest, blackest cup of coffee she knew how to brew already in her hands as Dorian Havilliard, with all his glory, stalked in and collapsed on a stool.

Aelin slid him the cup. “Wake up, kiddo.”

“Ugh.” said Dorian in response, taking a long sip of the coffee. “ _Ugh_. That's horrid.”

“That's what you pay me for.” she said neutrally, leaning over the counter. “How are midterms, then?”

“Torts can honestly kiss my ass.” said Dorian, the coffee bringing a little color to his pale cheeks.”

She nodded sympathetically, reshuffling her work station. When Dorian needed to rant, there was no need to do anything more than nod-he'd go on for a couple hours.

“-and that _bitch_ screwed me over, she totally promised me the study guide our TA made up, but then she said she 'lost it'.” exclaiming Dorian, making very dramatic air quotes. “And _she_ only got the study guide cause the TA had a thing for her!”

“Come now, Havilliard,” said Lysandra sweetly. “Are you saying you don't know how to work your sex appeal?”

“Bite your tongue. I am _made_ of sex appeal.”

“Where's the shadow, by the way?” asked Aelin, refilling his cup.

“Hm, Chaol? Oh, he's out _running_. Disgusting, I know, but he says it helps him focus during exams. Gross.” Dorian glanced up, as if suddenly remembering that Aelin and Chaol used to go running every morning together. “Oh, you both disgust me.”

“So when he gets here, he's gonna stink up the place.” said Lys, wrinkling her nose.

“You betcha.” said Dorian, pointing at her. “Hey, can I have a muffin? Where's my girl?”

“Nesryn's cookin'.” said Lysandra. “I'll get you a muffin.”

Dorian made a face. “They're only good when Nesryn serves them.”

“You are by far my least favorite regular.” declared Lysandra.

He blew her a kiss as the bell rang again, admitting a group of joggers chattering up the place. Aelin and Lysandra busied themselves with taking orders and mixing drinks, and Dorian sulked by his coffee for a moment before yanking a laptop out of his bag so he could study.

“That'll be three-fifty.” said Aelin to the last of the bunch and her frappacino.

“Thanks,” replied the customer, a smiling girl in bright pink spandex. “Say, have you been across the street?”

Aelin blinked. “What?”

“The little brunch place? Oh, I was just asking cause it looks so _cute_ , you know? And we're new to the area-” the rest of the joggers nodded in assent “-and if it's a cute brunch place we'll stop by more often.”

Aelin blinked again.

“But it makes such a pretty picture, all the roses and the honeysuckle. Very _au natural_ . And that guy out front? With the tattoos? He's _something_ -”

“The place is shit.” said Aelin bluntly, dull steel in her eyes. It was the jogger's turn to blink in surprise.

“Oh-”

“They'll charge you eight bucks for a tea cause it's _organic_. ”

One of the joggers leaned over to another: “Doesn't organic mean healthy?”

“ _No_ .” said Aelin, pointing at them. She turned back to the First Jogger. “And the service is crap, they're condescending and rude, and if you aren't vegan they'll lecture you for _hours_ on why you _should be_.”

“They are a bit rude about the vegan thing.” Lysandra mused. “I'm vegetarian myself, but they insisted it was like having one foot on dry land and the other in a pool of acid.”

“Ah.” said the jogger weakly. “That's...interesting.”

“Damn straight.” said Aelin. “That'll be three-fifty.”

* * *

 

“Nice going, Ace.” said Dorian as they watched the spandex group of joggers cross the street to Doranelle Cafe.

“I warned them.” said Aelin darkly. “So now, when that mockery of a barista greets them-”

“Ah, Lady Remelle.” sighed Lysandra.

“- _they'll know.”_

“What do you have against Doranelle?” asked Dorian. “I feel like since you opened the store you've been very anti weird french boutique cafes.”

“I've always been against weird french boutique cafes.” said Aelin. “Shit. I need to make myself a coffee.”

“It's a personal grudge.” said Lysandra in a stage whisper. “You know who Rowan Whitethorn is?”

“No?”

“He's the manager at Doranelle. A _hates_ him.”

“Yeah?” said Dorian, eyes wide. “Hey Aelin! Why do you hate the Rowan Whitethorn guy?”

Aelin spun around, and began ticking things off her fingers. “His face, I hate his face. His voice, his general demeanor, how condescending he is, the fact that he's probably cold blooded, the sadist, and-”

“She'll go on for a while.” said Lys airily. “Wanna see the man?”

“After that intro? Hell yeah.” said Dorian.

Lysandra pointed behind him, to where Rowan Whitethorn was welcoming in the joggers. Dorian squinted at him.

Rowan Whitethorn was a vision in the April sun, smiling an _obviously_ fake smile as he welcomed the group in. The intricate tattoos gleamed black ink against his dark skin, and he was still holding a damn watering can. Aelin frowned at him, heavily considering flipping him off again.

Somehow, inexplicably, Rowan looked up, catching her gaze. Aelin glared, and then made the quick decision to stick out her tongue at him.

“Well.” said Dorian,turning back around and raising an eyebrow at her expression. “He's dishy.”

Rowan raised two fingers to his temple in a mockery of a salute, before turning sharply on his heels and continuing with the watering can.

“I can't believe he exists.” said Aelin. “It's like The Powers That Be condensed all the rudeness and asshole behavior of the entire population and put it in one person.”

“Their first meeting were less than stellar.” said Lysandra.

“Children!” called a voice from the kitchen. “I have fresh bagels.”

“Nesryn, my girl, I love you!” bellowed Dorian, sufficiently shattering the moment.

“Been there,” said fellow law student Chaol Westfall, noticeably sweaty, poking his head through the door.

“Westfall, what'll it be today?” said Aelin, sending a fond smile at her friend.

Chaol grinned back, teeth flashing against tan skin. “Hey, angel. I'd love a macchiato. And a bagel.”

“Sure, hon.” said Lysandra, turning to the french press.

“You two gonna study in here today? Or is it gonna be to go?” asked Aelin.

“Here, please.” said Dorian. “Chaol, my brother, my captain, my-”

“ _Yes_ , I got Blackbeak's study guide.” said Chaol, rolling his eyes. He turned to Aelin again. “So, was that Whitethorn we were ogling?”

Aelin sighed heavily, putting her face in her hands.

* * *

 

It was four years ago, when she had first decided to open Stag and Star. The place had been a dump-an unfriendly lawyer had scribbled down the address on the back of a takeout menu, so she didn't exactly have high hopes. But there was red brick back then, faded and decaying. Leftover shelves, half collapsed, lined the store. Aelin had called the lawyer immediately.

“This is it?” she had asked dubiously. “This is-was-my parent's shop?”

“Did you go to the address I gave you, sweet pea?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then that's it.” and then a _click_ , and Aelin Galathynius had just been hung up on for the first time in her life.

She hadn't known. She had absolutely no clue that there was a _bookshop_ (Terrasen Olde Books) in her parents name. And now her name. The thing was, what on earth was she supposed to do with the space?

The lawyer heavily insisted upon selling the property. Claimed there was no profit to be made. Aelin was starting to agree. She sat outside on the curb, chin in her hands, watching the locals stroll by, and the city traffic. It was a shame, that nothing was being done with the store, that it was all boarded up like this, considering how beautiful the location was. And Aelin could just imagine it in summer...

Something caught her eye about the cafe across the street-maybe it was the beautifully cultivated yellow roses climbing the iron grille in front of the store. Aelin stood up. Coffee. Coffee was a good idea. After her year long stint as a barista with Rifthold Coffee, the smell of coffee beans was suddenly very comforting.

So she crossed the street, nodding at the flowers, and pushing open the door to what looked like a weird cross between a garden and a French train station.

Seriously. Everything was in French. There were four more menus than necessary posted for the sole purpose of having all but one of them in French. Aelin's eyebrows twitched upward.

The tables and chairs were nice, though, made of delicately wrought iron. She plopped her bags down on a chair and headed over to order.

Strangely enough, for a cafe, there was only one coffee on the menu. Aelin shrugged, not one to complain when she needed to be caffeinated, and decided to get a tea alongside with the coffee.

“Hi.” she said when she got to the counter. The cashier, a woman with the name tag 'Remelle', had long black hair and impressive fake nails, which she was staring at in determination.

“Hi,” said Remelle, in a bored voice. She sighed.

Aelin raised an eyebrow pointedly. Remelle sighed again, louder this time. “What'll you have.”

“A coffee and a passion fruit tea, please.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

“That'll be ten dollars, fifty.”

Aelin had to physically bite her tongue as she forked over the cash. Ten dollars, that was robbery!

“Thanks,” droned Remelle.

Aelin headed back to her table, sitting uncertainly down on the _extremely delicate_ chair. She honestly wasn't sure if it would support her weight.

As she waited for her drinks, a tall, well built man with impressive, winding tattoos along his left arm strolled in, holding a small canvas bag of seeds. He did a double take at the sight of Aelin, precariously perched on a chair.

“New customer?” he asked.

“Yup.” said Aelin, waving. “You what, you're the place's gardener?”

A small smile broke out on his face. “More or less. Rowan Whitethorn.” he reached over to shake her hand. Aelin found that his hands were surprisingly clean and warm. “And you?”

“Aelin.” she said. “I just came into the property across the street, so I'm checking the area out.”

Rowan looked surprised. “Terrasen Books? That place has been empty for years.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it's...complicated.”

“Do you know what you're going to do with it?”

“No clue-oh, thanks.” Another tall man, blond this time, handed her a tiny cup of coffee and a tea cup, kettle, tea bag, and a small stick of rock sugar on a saucer. Aelin sunk the tea bag into the pot of hot water. “I'm not from this part of the city,” she explained. “So I just thought I'd come by and sleep on it.”

“You're not going to sell it, are you?” asked Rowan, crossing the store to shove the bag of seeds under the counter.

“I haven't decided.”

“You shouldn't.” he said casually, leaning against the counter. “It'll be a damn shame.”

“Oh?” said Aelin. Everyone else, even some of her friends, had pushed her to sell. This man was the first to insist otherwise. “Why?”

“You know.” said Rowan, tilting his head to the side. He smirked. “The area comes with some perks.”

Aelin felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “Oh.” He was-was he? He was _flirting_. How had she not noticed? Had he been doing it the whole time? “Well, like I said,” Aelin started, trying to cover up her surprise. “I'll have to sleep on it.”

Rowan opened his mouth, looking positively wicked, and Aelin was so busy cursing herself for giving him an opening like that she was practically thankful when Remelle called out from behind the counter.

“Rowan!” she snapped, sounding sour. “I need you back here.”

“Sure.” he called back easily, heading behind the counter and rolling up his sleeves. “What's up?”

As he worked, Aelin tore her attention from him and focused back on the coffee. It was in a criminally tiny ceramic cup, but coffee was coffee. Or so she thought.

Aelin spit out the first mouthful in a napkin, coughing violently. From behind the counter, a bickering Remelle and Rowan looked back at her in surprise. “Uh.” she said, blushing again. “I think...I think your milk's gone bad. Or your grounds, or something, this doesn't taste like coffee.”

She understood burnt coffee. Aelin probably wouldn't have complained if it were just burnt, but this tasted like flat, boiling hot Dr Pepper.

Remelle's eyes narrowed. “There's no milk.”

“Okay.” said Aelin slowly.

“It's vegan coffee.” said Rowan, a little more helpful. “It's made of legumes. And roasted chicory.”

Aelin did her best not to pull a face. “ _Why_?”

“Doranelle Cafe is a vegan _only_ establishment.” snapped Remelle, hands on hips.

Vegan only...Aelin blinked. She never thought she would hear those words spit out with such derision. “I didn't realize. Maybe you should...put that on the menu or something? Or advertise it a little? I mean I had no idea that I wasn't getting what I thought I paid for.”

Remelle seemed to swell up. “ _Well-_ ”

Rowan looked at Aelin, almost apologetic, as the barista launched into an impassioned speech about how _gross_ America's eating habits were, and how if everything was _organic_ -

Aelin stopped listening at the phrase “machine tainted granola” and slowly began to gather her things. Okay, she thought, trying to keep calm. So this was a bad idea. And what really got her the most-

“Are you leaving?” said Remelle snidely. “What, want to hide from the truth?!”

What really got her the most-

“Melle,” chided Rowan quietly. “She's a customer, you can't just...”

“A customer? And coffee, _coffee_ , in a place like this is just-”

What _really_ got her, was this. Aelin turned aggressively towards Remelle, nearly knocking the table over as she stood up. “You know something?” she snapped. “Coffee's already vegan!”

The barista's eyes were wide. “Coffee beans are literally vegan. Use almond milk or something if you don’t want dairy!” Aelin shrugged her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the teacup and it's saucer, turning and crashing out the door.

She got halfway across the street before she heard a voice calling after her. Aelin steeled herself, sighing, and turned back around. Rowan had come after her, mouth pressed in a hard line.

“What?” said Aelin, jerking her chin up. He _better_ apologize.

He sighed. “The cup. We need the cup back.”

Aelin’s eyebrows reached dangerous levels of altitude. She looked down at the delicate china she was still gripping, white knuckled.

Rowan held a hand out for the empty cup.

“Oh.” said Aelin, a fit of childish pique coming on. “Oh, hell no.”

“You can’t just take it.”

“I paid ten fifty for it.”

“That’s not-”

“Bite me, gardener boy.” snapped Aelin, turning back around and shoving the cup into her bag.

“A-Aelin!” he stumbled over her name, but she didn’t care. At Rifthold, she would’ve been flayed alive for speaking to a customer in that way! Her cheeks were incredibly flushed as she stalked into the dusty former bookstore and slammed the door hard. Leaning against it, Aelin took a deep breath.

She _missed_ Rifthold. Yeah, the boss _hated_ her with a passion, and vice versa, but the atmosphere was so good for her. She had Dorian and Chaol, and the rest of the regulars. That Lysandra, who had been let go only a few weeks before Aelin had quit. The family run business that handled their baked goods. They had all been lovely, and for a year, they had been family.

And now she had something her actual family had left her, and she was alone in it. Aelin sighed, looking at the huge space. She needed that sort of vibe in her life. Not just to make money anymore-but for _her._

And what did she get? Aelin dryly plucked out the delicate cup from her bag and stared at it, at the chipped gold foil painted on the edges and the rose detailing. She had this. A shitty, rude cafe across the street and a dusty bookstore that had been empty so long no one could even remember it.

On impulse, Aelin felt for her phone in her pocket and dialed one of the only numbers she had ever memorized.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” said Aelin, smiling despite herself. She loved his voice, even over the phone.

“Hey, Ace.” said Aedion on the other end, immediately fond.

“I went to my parent’s bookstore.” she said, sliding down to sit against the door.

“How is it?”

“Dusty.” she sighed. “Can you get down here after work?”

“Sure. Have you decided what you’re going to do with it?”

Aelin frowned, placing the Doranelle tea cup on the floor in front of her. “I’m getting an idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Aelin pressed her lips together as she studied the cup. “Excelsior, right?”

“Excelsior.”

 

When the signs arrived, that’s when the trouble started. Aelin and Aedion put up the large overhead above the freshly painted store on their own, on precariously perched ladders and their tiptoes. When it was finally straight enough for Aelin’s standards, she attached the smaller glass sign with their store hours to the door and wiped it clean.

“Is it smudged?” she asked Aedion, squinting at the sign. “It’s smudged. They gave me smudged glass. I’m gonna-”

“Chill out, Ace.” said Aedion easily. “It’s not smudged.”

“It totally is.” said Aelin, crossing her arms. “This is customer’s _first_ impression of the store, and they’re going to see smudged glass! I can’t-”

“Stag and Stars Coffee?” said a dangerous voice behind Aelin.

Her eyes lit up, and she turned slowly to find Rowan Whitethorn, practically glaring at her, in a beige muscle tee and sandals. Aelin grinned broadly. “That’s right.”

“Seriously?” asked Rowan flatly. “You had _one_ questionable experience at my place and-”

“- _questionable?_ Your barista threatened to-”

“-and you decide to open up another coffee shop across the street? Do you really hold grudges for that long?”

Aelin cocked her head to the side. “I wouldn’t exactly call your place a _coffee shop_ , Whitethorn.”

He gave her a cold smile. “And I wouldn’t exactly call _this_ a coffee shop either, but well-”

Aelin’s jaw dropped in offense, her eyes were wide, sparks were flying and she was about to give him the most scathing verbal Yelp review that was in her power to create when a delicate cough sounded to her right.

“Hiya.” said newly arrived Lysandra, standing next to Aedion, both with equal expressions of bemusement. “Am I early?”

Her anger waned immediately. “No, honey, you’re fine.” said Aelin, not looking away from the man in front of her. “I suggest,” she said quietly to him. “I suggest you start packing up. Your store’s not gonna last long with me here.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow at the challenge. “You gravely overestimate your own talents.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” said Aelin. “Not when it comes to coffee.”

“This is childish.”

“That’s life, honey.” said Aelin, smiling dryly. “Thanks for the initial idea, but this place is gonna have nothing to do with you _or_ your shitty cafe. This is all me. Running you out of business is gonna be a perk, not a main goal.”

“You’ll regret this.” Rowan warned.

“Do your worst.”

A pause, and then: “I want my cup back.”

Aelin laughed. “Then come and get it, gardener boy.” she shot him another dazzling look. “We open next week. I’ll see you there.”

“You’ll see me there?” repeated Rowan, mild surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.” said Aelin, turning around to retreat into her store. She still had to move in the tables, and deal with that smudgy sign. “I’d love to introduce you to real coffee.”

Rowan opened his mouth to retort, so Aelin slammed the door in his face.

* * *

 

Lysandra and Aelin had switched for a bit, so Aelin concentrated on the steady rhythm of mixing drinks and filling orders.

“Nesryn, we need more of-”

“On it.” said their baker, sliding a plate through the door to their kitchen.

The cafe was busy enough that Aelin didn’t have to think too much. Dorian and Chaol had taken a table by the bookshelf, talking quietly over a few textbooks.

A couple other regulars filled the cafe as well. Aelin’s family friend Elide was sitting near them, sometimes sending them kind smiles and sympathetic looks. Elide was in medical school, so she was also absolutely surrounded by textbooks. Other than that, there were a few kids from the same law school Dorian and Chaol attended up the street, as well as several other college kids from around.

“I love working in college town.” whispered Lys as she slid Aelin a cup. Aelin followed her gaze to a group of good looking students, all looking harried about exam season. She laughed.

“Don’t harass the customers.”

“I would never!” said Lysandra, but she winked.

“Ah,” said Aelin as the doorbell pinged. “You can harass _this_ customer.”

“Funny.” said Manon Blackbeak, stalking over to the register. Lysandra blew her a kiss. “My usual.”

Aelin snorted. “Blackbeak, you always order something different. You don’t have a ‘usual’.”

Manon rolled her eyes, propping her elbows on the counter. “Get me...whatever.”

“Manon,” started Lysandra, but Aelin waved her off.

“I’ll get you something.” she said. “You just want to spend time with your _girlfriend_.”

Two very light pink spots appeared in Manon’s cheeks, though her face still held a neat look of bored disinterest. Aelin grinned.

“Why, Manon, you _do_ care.”

“Shut up.” snapped the woman. She smacked some money on the counter. “I’ll be sitting with Elide.”

“Yeah, Elide your _girlfriend_ -”

“Hush up, barista.” said Manon loftily. She walked over to her girl, and right into a fierce showdown in which Dorian and Chaol demanded she give them her study guides.

Aelin watched them squabble, smiling and content. “Ah, the children.” she said to Lysandra. The other girl laughed.

“You love ‘em”

“Yeah.” said Aelin. “I think I do.”

“Why, Aelin, you _do_ care.”

“Stop,” laughed Aelin. “Help me clean up back here.”

“Sure, babe.” said Lysandra, heading over. “When’s Aedion stopping by?”

“In an hour or so, he said.” she answered. “He’s got ‘news’, apparently.”

“Ominous.” said Lysandra.

The bell pinged again, and Lysandra faced forward in a flash, with her customer service face on.

“Hi, what can I get-” Her smile dropped abruptly as she cut herself off.

Aelin turned in surprise. Lys was never shaken in front of a customer. Almost. There was one occasion with an ex boyfriend, but to be fair that was a rather special case, and the ex _deserved_ Lysandra’s fist in his face.

Her eyes narrowed. Rowan Whitethorn was smiling broadly at her, across from the bar.

“Hey.” he said, sounding absolutely cheerful.

Aelin blinked. That was just _weird_. “What?” she snapped.

“Just thought I’d take you up on that offer.” he said, shooting a grin at Lysandra. The barista’s eyebrows lifted infinitesimally.

Aelin knew what he meant. “You’re finally in the mood for a decent cup of coffee? It’s only been, what, five years since I gave you that offer to begin with. A lot’s changed.”

“I’ve got something to celebrate.” said Rowan, something vaguely threatening in his smile.

This felt _wrong_. Aelin’s mind was sending warning signals all through her body, but she forced herself to school her emotions and deal. “So.” she said. “What’ll you have?”

“Just a large coffee.”

Aelin grabbed for a cup, but he shook his head.

“For here. Not to go.”

She swallowed roughly, but put the cup down and reached for a forest green mug. “Okay. Lys-”

“That’ll be three dollars, seventeen cents.” said Lysandra, pasting on obviously fake cheer in her voice.

“Wow.” said Rowan, somehow more sarcastic than she. “A bargain.”

Aelin felt her cheeks heating up again, but she poured the coffee and handed him the mug. “Be careful.” she said shortly. “It’s hot.”

“As it should be.”

He didn’t retreat to a chair like Aelin hoped-rather, he stayed at the bar, watching her and Lysandra move with eagle sharp focus. Aelin pushed herself to behave normally-Lys was a perfect imitation of her normal self, but she was always better at this sort of thing than Aelin-and managed to succeed, albeit the seemingly permanent flush to her cheeks.

It wasn’t-she wasn’t _flustered._ She had no right to be flustered, he was just another customer.

Another customer whom she happened to hate with a passion, said an indignant voice in the back of Aelin’s mind. Another customer who did nothing but belittle her and try to make her store look small in comparison to his own. Aelin angrily washed out a shaker, but kept Rowan in her line of sight as he took his first sip of her coffee.

Rowan stopped, the mug still to his lips, and Aelin cursed the unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t _look_ like he was disgusted by it or something. Honestly, he looked a little...confused.

“What, Whitethorn?” she called. “Not vegan enough?”

She had used almond milk. Anyway.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she could’ve sworn he smirked. “Coffee’s already vegan, Galathynius.”

“Hm.” said Lysandra, and Aelin briefly considered marrying the girl solely for her skill of absolutely crushing someone with a single syllable. A single ‘hm’. Aelin shot her a grateful look.  

“Whatever.” said Aelin as the bell rang again. Lysandra turned to the front again with only the tiniest of sighs.

A half hour passed normally, besides the man at the bar who _wouldn’t stop staring_. At one point, Dorian noticed who had shown up and frantically mouthed something unintelligible to Aelin. She shrugged, he frowned, and then pulled his study group in for some fast paced muttering.

“I’d like another one of those.” said Manon Blackbeak five minutes later, at the register. Her mouth was set into a hard line, and Aelin smiled fondly. It was typical of Dorian and Chaol to try and surreptitiously (though she was convinced they didn’t know the meaning of the word) find out what was going on. And it looked like Manon had drawn the short straw.

“Sure, Manon.” said Aelin, mixing the highly caffeinated and heavily mocha drink she had given to Manon that morning. “On the house,” she said when the taller girl went to pay. “You obviously didn’t volunteer for the recon mission.”

“Are they that transparent?” said Manon, sighing and shoving the five dollar bill she had already pulled out in the tip jar. She took a seat at the stool directly next to Rowan. “Anyway, Elide was pouting.”

Rowan was eyeing her with some interest, most of it wary. Manon met his eyes directly. “Who are you, then?”

“A patron of this coffee shop.” he answered glibly. Aelin snorted.

“Same,” said Manon, turning back to Aelin. That seemed to be the extent of her recon. “So, Galathynius-”

“Ugh, _Manon_ -” groaned Aelin, knowing exactly where this was going.

“When are you coming back to school?” pressed Manon. “I’ve asked you nearly every month for four years, and-”

“Law school wasn’t for me.” said Aelin firmly. “I figured that out just fine on my own.”

Manon looked in severe pain. “Your test scores-”

“I know my test scores.”

“They were good enough to get you anywhere, and you’re wasting it.”

“I’m _not_ wasting it. I’m giving the seat to someone who actually wants it. Scone?”

“Changing the subject will not help you here. And yes. Blueberry.” Manon leaned back. “You really want to work here the rest of your life?”

That was complicated, and Manon knew it. Aelin looked at her, trying to convey what the cafe meant to her- _no_ , she didn’t necessarily want to work there forever, that wasn’t her end goal. Her end goal was simply to be...happy. To live life excited for the next day. The shop did that for her, was quantifiable proof of her own hard work. That’s what she needed right now.

And no matter how much she pushed, Aelin knew Manon got that. “I’m focusing on something else right now.” she said softly.

Manon looked away. “If it was anyone but you, that wouldn’t be good enough. If you were focusing on anything _stupid_ , love or friendship, or just plain lack of ambition, I’d never speak to you again.”

“Yeah.” said Aelin, a smile breaking out. “I know. Go back to your girl, Manon, recon’s over. So’s the interrogation.”

“Every time we have this conversation I feel like you keep winning.” said Manon, sliding gracefully off her stool and rolling her eyes.

“That’s why you’re still having it with me.”

Manon shot her an equally graceful middle finger before gliding over to where Elide, Chaol and Dorian all sat expectant.

“What was that about?”

It was the first words he spoke to her since he settled in with the coffee. Aelin’s eyes widened with surprise, but there he was, Rowan Whitethorn, looking at her contemplatively over his green mug.

“Nothing.” she said immediately.

“You were going to go to law school?”

“No.”

“She said your test scores-what, the LSATs? She said they were good enough for anywhere.”

“Yes, I was there, I heard her.” snapped Aelin, furiously rinsing out metal shakers.

“Then why are you here?” pressed Rowan.

Aelin whirled around. “Why do you care? I just am, alright?”

He didn’t break her gaze, just leaned in.

“What?” she asked again, exasperated.

“I don’t get you.” said Rowan, frowning.

“And that’s my problem, how?” Aelin turned back, uncomfortable. “Why are you even here?”

He actually looked a little embarrassed. “Well...”

“Do I want to know?” she cut across him.

“You may have to. In a bit.”

Aelin squinted at him. “Be vaguer, gardener boy, no problem.”

Rowan said nothing, just took another sip of coffee. Aelin sighed, giving up on that at least, as went back into their storeroom for refills.

The bell rang faintly as she was back there, and she hastened back to the front in case Lys needed help making a drink. Thankfully, it was just Aedion, looking harried in a dress shirt and slacks-the most formal he got. She beamed at him.

“Hey, Aedion. Want anything?”

Aedion looked more stressed than she had ever seen him, but he didn’t answer her. His gaze fell instead on Rowan, who was sipping at his coffee warily.

“What,” Aedion snarled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Rowan raised a single dark brow. “And the shoe drops.”

“Woah,” said Aelin, setting down a fresh gallon of almond milk. “Aedion, what’s up?”

Aedion turned to her, fury abating a little at the sight of his cousin. “What is he doing here?”

“I don’t know, he just showed up...are you okay?”

“Are you here to _gloat_?” Aedion snapped. They were starting to get attention from the rest of the cafe. Aelin exchanged a quick look with Lysandra, who nodded.

“Okay, enough.” she said.

“I got the front, don’t worry.” said Lysandra.

“Aedion, let’s talk in private, okay? Upstairs.”

Aedion hadn’t taken his eyes of Rowan. “You-”

“ _You_.” interrupted Aelin, coming out from behind the bar and clasping Aedion’s shoulder hard. “Get upstairs. Office.”

Aedion, still fuming, knew better than to cause a bigger scene. He turned around and walked through the storeroom door, and presumably up through the stairs that were tucked in the back of it.

Aelin turned to Rowan, distrust written all over her face. “You.”

“Listen...”

“No.” she said firmly. “Come on, we’re not having this conversation without you.”

“But-”

“Especially since you’re probably at fault.”

“I resent that.” said Rowan as Aelin grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged him back.

“And keep your eyes closed.” she snapped.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna have a rival store look through our kitchen.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Hm, consider this- deal with it.”

Rowan sighed, annoyed, but Aelin just raised an eyebrow. Exasperated, he closed his eyes. Aelin made a satisfied sound and continued to pull him through the back room, up the stairs.

“Ow!” said Rowan as he smacked his head on the low beam at the end of the stairs.

“Oh, woops.” said Aelin, unconcerned. Rowan opened his eyes to look at her reproachfully.

“Am I allowed to see now?” he snapped at her, a hand on his forehead.

“Sure I guess.” said Aelin, trying not to grin. “Come, this door here.”

The upstairs was made of two rooms. One was Aelin’s flat, a shoebox one room apartment, with nothing but a couch, a bed, and a bathroom. She used the kitchen downstairs if she needed anything. The other room was her office, where she (Aedion) filed financial reports and did any paperwork that couldn’t be completed downstairs. Aelin pulled Rowan into the latter, where Aedion was already sitting. He looked like he was still fuming.

“Okay,” said Aelin, closing the door firmly. “What the hell?”

Rowan looked at Aedion expectantly. “You know, don’t you?”

Aedion shot him the dirtiest look he could muster. “Yeah, _asshole_.”

Rowan shrugged, almost in agreement. “Tell her.”

“Tell me _what?_ ” said Aelin, hands on her hips. Aedion sighed.

“Ace, this is bad.”

“We’ll handle it.” said Aelin automatically. “Whatever it is. What is it?”

“Erilea’s out.”

There was a pause. Aelin’s jaw dropped. “ _What?”_ Erilea-the biggest monetary sponsor of the store. And they were out? Out of the restaurant, or out of business? _What?_

“They were bought up last week. Our rep called me this morning to let us know, and I was just in a meeting with them.”

“So...” Aelin’s mind was whirring so fast she could practically hear it. “Are they pulling out? No, Aedion. We can’t-” They couldn’t afford that, not if they wanted to keep the store open.

“No.” said Aedion hurriedly. “We still have their support. But Erilea’s merging with the company that bought them. Wendlyn. Different management, different everything.”

“Wendlyn?” repeated Aelin. She knew that company...a huge conglomerate, with tons of chain restuarants and-Aelin’s eyes went huge, and she whirled to face Rowan. “ _Oh my god._ ”

“Yup.” said Rowan.

“Oh my god.” said Aelin again. “Oh my- _no_.”

Rowan shrugged.

“ _You_ ? Wendlyn owns Doranelle...and _oh my god_ you _were_ gloating!”

“Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.” said Rowan pointedly.

Aelin, red faced, stuck a finger in his face. “Don’t you _dare_ , gardener boy, I cannot believe this.”

“Yeah.” said Aedion darkly. “They revamped our contract and everything, I have it for you to sign.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Aedion...”

“Hey.” said Aedion immediately. “Hey, it’ll be fine. It’s just...they want to make a few creative adjustments. And install someone in our management to look everything over for a few months.”

Aelin looked up sharply. “Creative adjustments? No! No.”

Aedion sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think that would be okay either.”

“I designed this entire place myself.” said Aelin angrily. “The _entire_ place. Every single element of it was _painstakingly_ vetted against not only us, but Lysandra and our fiends. When even Manon Blackbeak agrees that the atmosphere is okay, it means that the place is _perfect_.”

“I know, Ace.”

“It took months, Aedion! Months to find old pictures of Terrasen so we could model it after _our family_ , Aedion, and I’m not changing it. No. We’ll find financial backing elsewhere. It’s fine.”

Aedion stepped closer. “Aelin, you _know_ we can’t do that. Especially with El...”

Aelin nearly collapsed at that. “Oh, god, Elide.” She pressed her hand to her mouth again, considering. Could she do it? Could she cozy up to some giant monopoly until they let her keep her store and her family? “Okay. So we sign with Wendlyn. They want to install someone, a GM or something, so they can check us out?”

Aedion nodded.

“Okay.” said Aelin, forced enthusiasm in every word. “Okay, that’s easy. All we gotta do it play nice for a few months, convince them we’re doing okay-and we are, we _rake_ in profits-and then we keep the integrity of our shop.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know who they’re gonna send.”

Rowan gave a light cough, and the cousins turned to him. Aelin had nearly forgotten he was there, but she was still pissed that the first thing he did was buy a cup of her coffee and gloat when he heard.

“Oh, what, are you gonna rat us out?” asked Aelin, turning back to Aedion. “Come on. It’s fine. He’s just a-”

“So it looks like you’ve seriously misunderstood my place at Doranelle.” said Rowan, folding his arms.

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “What, gardener boy?”

“The president of Wendlyn-”

“Maeve, right?” said Aedion, making a face.

“She’s my aunt.” said Rowan flatly.

There was a brief pause. Finally, Aelin pressed her lips together. Her throat had gone weirdly dry. “What?”

“My aunt.” said Rowan again. He stuck out his hand. “Hi. My name’s Rowan Whitethorn. I’ll be your new general manager.”

* * *

 

Aelin walked down the stairs, croaked out a “Staff meeting after closing.” and then proceeded to work in silence for the rest of her shift. Aedion shrugged at Lysandra, who looked absolutely furious.

“What did you do?” she hissed at him as Aelin tonelessly wiped down a table.

Aedion shrugged again. “Me? I didn’t do anything!”

“Then explain _that_.” said Lys, pointing at Aelin, moving weirdly like a marionette doll with it’s strings cut.

"I can’t.” said Aedion. “But..”'

"But what?" snapped Lysandra

"There's a staff meeting." said Aedion.

"You are useless."

"Thanks, babe."

"Lys, you have an order." said Aelin tonelessly. Lysandra nodded as she moved away.

"What happened to Whitethorn?" Lys asked Aedion.

"Oh, him?" Aedian scoffed. "He left a while a go."

"What was his deal?"

Aedian looked uncomfortable. "...staff meeting."

"I can't stand you sometimes." said Lysandra, shaking her head. “When you say ‘staff’, by the way-”

“I think our people can stay. Aelin needs to make a big decision, she needs her friends. And El’s family anyway, she’s practically part of the team.”

“Okay.” Lys nodded slowly. “Talk to them. Get them ready for whatever fall out’s gonna happen.”

Aedion pressed his lips together. “Make sure Ace doesn’t fall apart.”

“My work never ends.” said Lys, turning away.

* * *

 

“ _What?”_

Aelin nodded. It was past closing, and her people were gathered around the bar. Aedion had offered to start out the meeting and explain, but this was her responsibility. She was their boss. The place was in her name. “Erilea’s out. Wendlyn’s in. They’re sending in a GM.”

Elide’s mouth was open, and Manon snaked an arm around her shoulders where she was perched on the arm of Elide’s chair. “Aelin...how are we gonna manage this?”

“Aedion ran the numbers.” said Aelin, sighing. “We can’t make it without their money.”

“Who’s the GM?” asked Chaol, his lawyer face on.

Aelin looked at him helplessly. Chaol’s eyes widened. “Yo, no way.”

“Way.” she said, dejected. “Rowan Whitethorn’s gonna be spending some time with us for a few months.”

Manon narrowed  her eyes. “ _That’s_ why he was here.”

“And maybe we’d _know_ that if we had better recon.” said Dorian under his breath. Manon smacked his arm.

“Question.” said Nesryn, who looked absolutely furious. “How much, exactly, are they allowed to alter? Our decor? Or _food_?”

“Here.” said Aelin, smacking down a massive stack of paper on the bar. “This is their contract. I went through it just now, but-”

Manon was already reaching for it. “Westfall and I took Contracts last semester.”  she said, while Chaol nodded.

“We’ll handle it.”

“Thanks.” said Aelin, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. “It looks like they can change anything they want, right now. We retain the right to contest the change, but Wendlyn board is final say, and they’re not gonna go in our favor.”

“Shit.” said Dorian. ‘What do you need us to do?”

“There’s nothing we can really do right now, except go with it.” said Aelin.

“So you’re saying we comply?” asked Lysandra slowly. “We stick it out and be professional until he doesn’t have a thing to complain about.”

“That’s the plan.” said Aelin gravely. “Got it?”

“Got it.” they echoed.

“That means you too, right, Aelin?” said Lys pointedly. “You’re going to be civil?”

“Of course.” said Aelin, shocked. ‘I know what’s at stake. Of course I’m gonna be civil. No matter what he says.”

* * *

 

“It’s too strong.”

Aelin snapped the stirrer she had been holding. “Excuse me?”

Rowan looked up at her from where he was sampling their cold brew. “It’s way too strong. People won’t want to drink this.”

She was gonna kill him. Aelin blinked, pasting on a smile. “People already want to drink this.”

He shook his head, dyed silver hair catching the light. Aelin fought down a sense of heavy annoyance the sight of him in an S&S apron. It was a good color on him, but somehow Rowan made it look condescending. Rowan reached for the machine again, but Aelin skirted around him and placed herself firmly between him and the counter.

“No.” she said firmly, poking him in the chest. “It’s fine.”

“It’s too strong, Galathynius.”

“It’s _cold brew_ , it’s supposed to be strong.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows. “Who has final say here?”

“Well-”

“Great.” he said. “Then let me-”

“ _No_.” said Aelin, folding her arms. “You know what final say you got here?”

He leaned back, considering her. “What?”

Aelin snagged a paper cup and a black marker. She drew on a quick script ‘W’ on the corner, above the S&S stag icon. “ _That’s_ what you get. You get ‘sponsored by Wendlyn’ written on our cups. That’s it. You have no input on my coffee.”

“Actually,” said Rowan, plucking the cup from her hand and reaching into his pocket with the other hand. “I think I do.”

He pulled out a small, pocket sized leaflet. Aelin stared at it of a moment before glaring right back up at him. “No fucking way.”

“What?”

“You had a pocket sized version of our contract drawn up? Seriously?” She exclaimed.

“I figured it would be necessary with you.” said Rowan. “Looks like I was right.”

Aelin pressed her lips together, stuck. How was she supposed to be civil when one simple, incredibly fluid eyebrow raise already made her want to throttle him? “This isn’t over.” she said finally.

“Nope.” said Rowan. “It’s just started.” he flashed her his Customer Service smile. “Fifteen minutes to opening.”

* * *

 

“This isn’t working.” said Aelin to Lysandra at a whisper. They were both working behind the bar, making drinks, while Rowan took orders.

“Tell me about it.” said Lys. She glanced at Aelin’s expression, and sighed heavily. ‘He _already_ broke you?”

“ _Broke_ me?”

“You were supposed to be civil, Aelin. He couldn’t have possibly gotten you to forget that.”

Aelin _really_ didn’t want to admit how easily she had conceded. “I tried.”

“You really gotta let this one go. At least during store hours!”

Looking at Rowan smile at a customer, Aelin frowned, shaking her head. “I _really_ hate how good he makes the apron look.”

“ _What?_ ”

“What.” said Aelin blithely.

Lysandra took another cup from Rowan and looked up the order. “He does have lovely handwriting, though.” she said apologetically. Aelin squinted at the beautiful casual script that he wrote the customer’s name in. “But A, what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m not good at being civil.” said Aelin, a tight smile stretching across her face. “I’m talking guerilla warfare.”

“Oh, _Aelin_.”

“Whitethorn,” Aelin called, her face impassive. Rowan glanced at her and nodded. “You marked this wrong.”

Rowan actually snorted. “I most certainly did not.”

“You did.” said Aelin. “We don’t carry almond milk anymore.”

He glanced at the cup.

Aelin made eye contact with the customer. “If you want another non dairy creamer, we have others.”

The customer nodded, yawning. “That’s fine.”

“Sure,” said Aelin, moving to make the machiatto. “Let me guess, Torts?”

The kid looked up, surprised, dark shadows etched into his face. “Yeah, how’d you-”

“I got a couple friends in school right now too.” she answered. “Also in the past half hour, about twenty other kids walked in, totally dead on their feet, carrying the same books.”

“Good eye.” said the kid.

Aelin handed him the drink. “Good luck-” she glanced at the cup. “-Nox.”

Nox looked at her nametag. “Thanks, Aelin. You’ll see me in about four hours to drown my sorrows in caffeine anyway.”

She laughed. “Looking forward to it. See you.”

He gave her a small wave before leaving the store. Rowan caught Aelin’s arm.

“What?” she said.

“We carry almond milk.” said Rowan.

“No, we don’t.”

“You gave me almond milk with my coffee yesterday.”

Aelin blinked. She hadn’t expected him to taste that. “It expired.”  

“You served me expired milk?”

“ _No_ , the date was-”

“You’re a bad liar, Galathynius.” said Rowan. “You want to throw me off balance so bad, do your job. That’d be a shock enough.”

He released her, and went back to the register. Aelin stood there for a moment, her face a mask of stone. Lys gently tugged at her sleeve.

“Come on, A.” she said quietly. Aelin nodded, bracing herself, and went back to work.

* * *

 

A few hours later, Nox _did_ show up. In tow, he brought Aelin’s friends, and she felt the tension in her body disappear at the sight of them, weary but victorious from exams.

“The brave souls return.” she called. The group sent her all tired looks. Chaol was the only one who sent his normal smile, weaker than usual, her direction.

Aelin started mixing their drinks quickly. She knew this bunch after an exam, and they needed the same does she gave Dorian most mornings. Disgustingly strong, black coffee. “Come and get it.” she called to them as they sank into an alcove.

Chaol nudged Dorian, and they both grabbed their bookbags and dragged them to the bar. “Hey, A.” said Chaol, voice raspy.

“Damn.” said Aelin, sliding him a mug. “You sound awful. How was it?”

Dorian put his hands over his ears. “No discussion until results are out.”

“Sure, kiddo. Drink your coffee.”

Aelin smiled fondly at them before turning back to where Rowan was giving her the stink eye. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Here.” he said, handing her a new order. She nodded, but tossed the cup off the Lysandra. She was better with the teas anyway.

“Manon’s here.” said Dorian. Aelin turned to face him.

“Hm?”

“Manon. You know how she gets after exams.”

“Oh,” said Aelin, smiling at him as she wiped down the counter. “She gave me the law school pitch recently, I think I’m off the hook for now.”

“If you say so.” said Chaol. “El coming by?”

Aelin frowned, trying to remember Elide’s exam schedule. “I think she’s in until four today.”

“We’ll probably stick around until then anyway.” said Chaol. “Don’t have another test for three days, but we’ll be studying.”

“Good.” said Aelin.

“Also,” said Chaol grinning. “Dorian’s majorly into that friend of El’s, and if _she_ comes by...”

She laughed as Dorian smacked Chaol in the arm. “What friend of Elide’s?”

“Oh, she hasn’t been by? You know, that med school girl. The pretty one.”

“Specifics, Westfall.” said Aelin. She looked at Dorian. “I’m sure she’s _very pretty_.”

Dorian stuck his tongue at her.

The bell at the door rang, and Aelin found a new crowd of non-law school regulars walk in. “Hey, guys.” she said to them as they approached the register, before Rowan even opened his mouth. “The usual?”

“Yes please.” said long time customer Kaltain Rompier. “For these guys as well.”

“Sure.” said Aelin, nodding to Lysandra and marking down several cups.

“How you been, A?” asked Kaltain, eyes falling on Rowan with obvious interest. “New staff?”

“Of sorts.” said Aelin, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, hell.” laughed the girl. “I know you. You’re from that god awful cafe across the street.”

Rowan’s expression darkened. Aelin snorted.

“Yeah,” said Kaltain, glancing at her friends. “The one with that barista, the bitchy one. God, never thought I’d see a girl like her-”

“Kaltain, honey, you are a girl like her.” said Aelin, handing her a drink.

She blew Aelin a kiss. “There can only be one.” Kaltain’s razor sharp attention went back to Rowan. “So why are you here?”

Rowan opened his mouth, but Aelin cut across. “Nepotism.”

Kaltain lifted a perfectly arched brow. “I’ll get that story later, I suppose.” she slid into a seat next to Chaol. “Hello, Westfall. Dorian.”

“Hey.” said Chaol.

“Sea witch.” said Dorian.

Kaltain laughed again, high and clear.

Chaol cleared his throat. “So, how’s the girlfriend? Haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“Oh, she’s grand.” said Kaltain. “And I know she texts this one-” she nodded at Aelin. “-more that she messages me. But she got that UN internship, you know?”

“That’s what happens when you date an Ivy League girl.” said Aelin. “Know when she’s coming back?”

“Ask her yourself.”

“We all miss Nehemia.” said Dorian. “How come we got stuck with you in the city instead?”

“Cause Tisch students don’t go abroad that often, kiddo.” said Kaltain.

Rowan pulled Aelin back to the register. “The drinks you just made-”

“Oh.” said Aelin. “I’ll ring it up. I forgot, we know this crowd pretty well, I hardly bother asking them what they want. They know how much it is.”  

“Hm.” his mouth twisted.

“Chill, Whitethorn.” said Aelin. “We get a lot of regulars here. Until you learn ‘em, I’ll take care of it.”

“Will you?” he asked dryly.

“Stag and Stars has gotten along fine with two baristas. Always.” Aelin reminded him. “This isn’t necessarily your job, either, GM.”

Rowan nodded, but squinted at her. “This wasn’t _nepotism_ , by the way.”

Aelin laughed, loudly. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“It _wasn’t_.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, gardener boy.”

* * *

 

“Good work, today.” said Aelin, thirty minutes after closing and fully cleaned up. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Thanks, boss.” said Lysandra, obviously tired. She smacked a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before gathering her things.

“You going straight home?” Aelin asked, glancing at Aedion in case he was needed to walk her home.

“Nah, babe, I got a shift at the club.” said Lys. She slung her bag over her shoulders. “See you tomorrow.”

Aelin nodded. “Okay, see you. Nes, you staying tonight?”

“Yeah.” said Nesryn. “I’ll bake everything tonight, I’m not gonna be able to stay the day tomorrow. Parent’s need me.”

“Gotcha.” said Aelin. She turned to Rowan, who was neatly folding his apron. “You...?”

“I live a couple streets away.” he answered. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Aelin shifted her weight. “Can I talk to you upstairs real quick?”

“Yeah, sure?” said Rowan, very obviously confused.

She nodded. “I’ll see you guys later?”

“Yeah.” said Aedion. “Still on for dinner.”

Aelin smiled at him. “Yeah. Nes, stay as long as you want, just lemme know when you’re leaving.”

“Sure.” said Nesryn, heading back into the kitchen. The employees slowly filtered out, and Aelin turned back to Rowan.

“Come on.” she said, before heading back upstairs towards her office.

“Am I allowed to see your kitchen now?”

Aelin sighed heavily. “Well, I _suppose_. Watch your head.”

He ducked for the beam at the top of the stairs. “Thanks.”

Drier than dry. Aelin held the door to her office open for him, and shut the door behind them. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asked.

Aelin folded her arms. “Look, I know...I just...” she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say.

He seemed to get it. “You want to know what this means.”

“Yeah.” she sighed. “Look, you can pull your pocket contract all you want, but I need to know what to expect. I’m the _owner_ , here, I’m not here to be kept in the dark. Wendlyn ever sending a GM is...well, it’s bad for us. It means that you all actually think there need to be changes.”

Rowan nodded, listened. It was kinda weird, seeing him actually, well, _listening_ to her,

“What does this mean for my staff? Are you hiring, are you firing? Do you _actually_ plan to franchise Stag and Stars? I just-” Aelin pressed her lips together. “I need more information on what your place here is.”

“Okay.” said Rowan. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”

“I decided to wait until we were officially off the clock.” said Aelin.

“I’m not here to hide anything from you.” said Rowan, leaning against her desk. Aelin raised an eyebrow at him until he stood up straight again. “I’ll tell it to you straight.”

“Go ahead.”

“There’s very little chance that your shop will chain out, so you don’t have to worry about that.” he said. Aelin gave a small relieved sigh. “As for your staff, I’m submitting a full report to my supervisors, and the board Wendlyn has assigned to Stag and Stars, and they will discuss whether or not to touch the staff. However, I don’t think you have to worry. Your staff, despite their size, works well together.”

“Practice, I guess.”

“There will be changes to the storefront, and probably to some of the products too.”

Aelin opened her mouth to argue, but Rowan shook his head. “Yes, the contract was vague about that, but Wendlyn’s got some staple menu items that you’ll need to include.”

“Like what?”

Rowan sighed. “This is gonna sound silly-”

“What, Whitethorn?”

“A flaxseed cappuccino, for one.”

Aelin didn’t even have to say anything. She just stared at him, and from his cringing face, he understood.

“And, and a chai tea, probably.”

“We serve chai tea.” said Aelin flatly. “Nesryn makes it.”

“Not Wendlyn approved ones.” said Rowan.

“We sell it on it’s authenticity-it’s _not_ Starbucks. So having an actual brown girl make authentic-”

“Hey.” said Rowan. “You forget who you’re dealing with here. Wendlyn kind of deals in chain, standardized products.”

“Well _duh-”_ Aelin paused. “Hold up. Was that a backhanded insult to your parent company?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you the recipe for the flaxseed and the chai-”

“My god, Whitethorn, if one full working day with us has got you badmouthin’ the holy Wendlyn, I can’t imagine what a whole _month’s_ gonna do.”

“Stop.”

“It was the apron, wasn’t it? Wearing green the whole day made you a little, ah, _green_ towards-”

“I’m leaving.” said Rowan shortly, pushing past her.

“What?” she was laughing now. “Oh come on, have you always harbored a secret hate for flaxseed? You must have, must-” Rowan gave her a very dismissive salute as he stalked out of her office door. “-come on! Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

His muffled voice, half way down the stairs: “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

“The hell is this, Galathynius?” asked Rowan, flat, staring at the menu board Lysandra had just re chalked.

“Your chai tea.” said Aelin innocently. “We got the recipe and pricing you emailed, so we thought we’d just. Stick it up there, no point in waiting.”

“Great initiative.” said Rowan sarcastically. “But that doesn’t explain _that_.”

He pointed to the very bottom of the menu board where Lysandra’s careful script read “ _Whitethorn Chai Latte_ ”.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Lysandra, Lysol wiping the bar. “Did I spell your name wrong?”

“No.” said Rowan, glaring. “Why is it named after me?”

“It only seemed right.” said Aelin. “We _already_ have a chai tea, so it would be confusing if there was no distinction.”

“But why _me_?”

“Hey, GM, be thankful.” said Nesryn, who was packing up to go home. “None of _us_ have drinks named after us.”

“Hm.” said Aelin, grinning. “Nepotism.”

“Ah, must be.” said Lys. “Bye, Nes.”

“Bye, Flaiq.” said Aelin. “Get some sleep.”

“Whatever.” said Nesryn, leaving. Rowan was still disgruntled.

“This really isn’t appropriate.” he said.

“Well, alright.” said Aelin. She nodded to Lysandra. “Lys, go fix it, will you?”

Lysandra dragged over a stool and stood on it, wipe and chalk in hand. “Gotcha.” she said.

When she stepped back down, “ _Whitethorn Chai Latte”_ was still there. However, the slot above it with the original drink now read “ _Faliq Chai”_.

“Better?” asked Aelin cheerfully. “Man, Nes should’ve stayed for this.”

Rowan sighed. “ _No_ , that’s _not_ better.”

“Whatever you say, boss man.” said Lysandra. “But I’ve already gotten down from the stool. We can’t change it now.”

“You literally just changed it.”

“It’s too late.”

“ _Just_ now.”

“Anyway.” said Aelin loudly. “We’re still figuring out that whole flaxseed business. Also, we don’t exactly have flaxseed grounds.”

“Galathynius.”

“Fifteen to opening.” said Aelin.

She busied herself by quickly wiping down all the wood surfaces in the shop, while Rowan, still grumpy, tried to learn the sorting system from Lysandra as quickly as possible.

“Why does milk go here?”

“It just does.” said Lys. “That’s where it’s always been.”

“But I’ll have to reach across you to get it-”

“ _Aelin_ and I never had that problem.”

Rowan pressed his mouth into a tight, hard line. Lysandra breezed past him as though she were walking on air. He caught Aelin’s eye, and she headed over, dust cloth in hand.

“She’s lethal.” Rowan said quietly to Aelin.

Aelin snorted. “You got that right. She’s always like that.”

“To you, too?”

“No.” said Aelin, grinning. “She likes me.”

He glared at her.

“Buck up, Whitethorn.” said Aelin, nodding at Lysandra to unlock the door. “In about five minutes thirty exhausted law students are going to come crashing through that door.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re the only one who knows their orders.” said Rowan pointedly.

“They’re regulars.” shrugged Aelin. “They’ve been coming here since we opened the place five years ago.”

“That’s good customer loyalty.” said Rowan, with grudging approval.

Aelin smacked him on the shoulder. “A compliment!”

“Ow.”

“And it was kinda cheating.” continued Aelin. “Dorian and Chaol are old, old friends, and they bring the law school crowd. Anyone who doesn’t hang out with them hangs out with Manon, and she hangs here cause Elide’s here.”

“And Elide is...?” asked Rowan.

“Family.” said Aelin. “She brings the medical school kids. Well, her and another friend of ours...”

“How is she related to you?”

“She’s not, her dad was my dad’s best friend.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “So, then...?”

“She’s family.” said Aelin firmly. “Her mom looked after me a lot as a kid. She was just as much an aunt to me as Aedion’s ma.”

Elide was the reason Aelin had needed Stag and Stars to succeed, five years ago. It had been a horrible time for all of them; Aelin had just left Rifthold and deferred her Yale Law acceptance, Aedion had just dropped out of the police academy, and Elide? Elide had been mugged and beaten so badly that she needed three surgeries on the fine bones in her ankles and knees. They hadn’t been that close back then, and Elide had no one to help her.

When it was tough for Aelin, she had Aedion. So when they found out an old family friend needed thousands of dollars of reconstructive surgery for her to walk again, Aelin poured her savings into her medical bills. She, to this day, thanked god she hadn’t gone to Yale. The money she had saved for tuition came in incredibly handy.

Aedion and Aelin, while Elide was in recovery, knew they had to find a steady source of income, and fast. Elide had been applying to medical school before the accident, and they were determined not to be derailed by the situation. Five years later, Elide worked at a hospital and as a receptionist at a start up-but still, the majority of her tuition was paid by Stag and Stars.

But she didn’t tell Rowan that.

* * *

 

“Are you guys getting along?” Lysandra asked her in a whisper during the lunch rush.

Aelin shrugged. “We’re too busy to bicker.”

Lys laughed. “Impossible.”

As if to prove her point, Rowan handed a customer a cup instead of a mug. Aelin swooped in.

“No, kid, you only use the cups if it’s to go. It’s the same at your old place.” she shot the customer a dazzling grin. “Sorry. He’s knew. We’re still training him.”

Rowan shot her a scandalized look. “Kid?” he hissed, pouring the drink into a green mug. “You’re _at least_ three years younger than me, and I outrank you.”

“Then stop making rookie mistakes.” said Aelin. “Kiddo.”

“My goodness.” said Manon Blackbeak, standing at the register and staring at the menu with an uncommonly bright smile on her face.

“What’ll it be?” asked Rowan, returning to the register.

Manon eyed him appreciatively. “Oh, I’ll just have the Whitethorn Chai Tea, I think.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched.

“It just sounds so... _exotic_.”

“Okay, okay.” laughed Aelin, moving to make it. “Coming up.”

“Did you think of that?” Manon asked.

“Nah.”

“Lysandra, then?”

“Aedion.”

Rowan turned his head so quickly his neck cracked. “ _Aedion_?”

Aelin grinned, a stirrer in the foam of the drink to create the Wendlyn approved latte art. “Yup.”

“I cannot believe-and all this time?” Rowan fumed as he rung up Manon. “Hey, Galathynius, you’re doing it wrong.”

“I know how to draw in milk foam.” said Aelin.

“No, you’re-” Rowan sighed, and tried grabbing for the cup. When Aelin took it out of his reach, he just grabbed the wrist she was using to draw. “You gotta hold it like this.”

His much larger hand shaped her fingers around the stirrer, until she was only holding it between two her thumb and pointer finger. “Like you hold a pencil.”

“That.” laughed Aelin. “Is not how you hold a pencil.”

“What? Yes it is.” Rowan said, sounding cross. His hand still controlling hers, he swept her hand into creating the delicate ‘W’ she was supposed to draw.

“It’s really not.” said Aelin. For some reason, she felt weird. About this. “And it’s unfair I’m expected to do... _that_ , you’re obviously weird good at calligraphy.”

“You need to practice.” said Rowan impatiently. He let go of her, and Aelin concealed her thankful exhale.

“Gross.” she said, handing the mug to Manon. The law student was staring at her with the ‘Go To Law School’ face on, and Aelin groaned.

“Manon, not today.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” said Manon. She took the cup and pointed to Dorian and Elide’s normal corner.  “I’ll be over there.”

“Bye?” Aelin frowned. She _never_ let the Columbia thing go.

As soon as Manon sat down, Dorian strolled up to the register, huge grin on his face. “One Whitethorn Chai please.”

Rowan closed his eyes and sighed.

* * *

 

A week and a half passed with Rowan as a member of Stag and Stars, and though it was jarring, Aelin did admit it was fun to have someone knew to make fun of.

“Hey,” he said, just before they were about to leave.

She turned, already on her way upstairs. Lysandra waved as she walked out the door. “Yeah?”

“I, uh.” He looked a little tongue tied. “I gotta give you this. Your copy.”

Rowan handed her a slip of yellow paper. Aelin took it, and read the header. Her eyebrows inched up. “Performance review.”

“I already submitted it.” said Rowan quickly. “I should go-”

“Oh, no.” said Aelin, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, her voice dangerously sweet. “Stay. Sit. Let’s go through this together, shall we?”

Rowan sighed. “Okay.”

They sat at one of the two person tables, and Aelin read the entire review with pursed lips. It, however, was not what she was expected.

“Rowan, what is this?”

“Your performance review.” said Rowan. “I told you.”

“‘Stag and Stars has a surprisingly strong base of regular customers,’” Aelin read aloud. “‘who all seem to come for the atmosphere and the staff as well as the coffee, as general manager I highly suggest maintaining the iconic atmosphere and premise of having coffee in an old bookstore. I also suggest removing the Wendlyn staple items, as compared to the original Stag and Stars drinks, they did not sell.’ Rowan, you...”

“They might not listen to me.” he said quickly. “And it was just a preliminary review, once my aunt and your supervising board looks it over there are a lot of steps that have to be taken before you can-”

But Aelin was smiling, a slow, sweet, entirely genuine smile that stretched her face like molasses. “You vouched for us.”

“You earned it.” he said, matter of factly. “I don’t know anyone who can memorize over fifty regular’s orders, not even over the last five years. People come here for the coffee, but they mostly come here for you.”

The smile kept growing. Aelin closed her eyes and lowered her head, pressing a hand to her mouth to try and hide it. “Thank you.”

“I wrote what was true.” Rowan insisted. “The only people who bought the Wendlyn drinks were your friends, and they all did it cause they’re assholes.”

“Yeah they are.” said Aelin, laughing. “I’m glad you caught on.”

“Caught on?” said Rowan dryly. “That Lysandra. You know when I knew she was gonna be a pain in my ass?”

“When?”

“Okay, I don’t know if you remember, but it was when I found out you were starting your own coffee shop-”

“I remember.” said Aelin, delighted. “We were exchanging our witty repartee.”

He gave her a look. “We were yelling at each other.”

“Yeah, okay, we were yelling.”

“You were two seconds from trying to put me through your glass windows.”

“I get it, I get it. Lysandra?”

“Right.” Rowan straightened. “We’re obviously in the middle of something, and she _coughs_ . And right off the bat I know. That was the cough of a debutante.  The cough of someone who was _so_ passive aggressive that even I couldn’t match up.”

“Gardener boy, you’re not passive aggressive. You’re aggressive aggressive.”

“And she says something like ‘salutations’, or ‘greetings be’-”

Aelin laughed again, high and clear. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “She said ‘hiya’! Greetings be? _Greetings be?_ ”

Rowan waved her off. “Something like that.”

“My god.”

Rowan watched her laugh a little longer, a small smile of his own on his face. He pushed the yellow slip towards her. “That’s yours.”

“Thank you.” she said, genuine and warm.

He stood. “I should get going.”

“Okay.”

“I-” Rowan paused. “Does this mean I’m in?”

“What?” asked Aelin. He had paused at just the right second-with the barely there sun directly behind him. It hightlighted him in pinks and yellows and streaks of gold that made Aelin finally appreciate the planes of his face, the way the black of his tattoos contrasted with the humor in his green eyes. _Huh_ , she thought.

“Am I in?” he asked again. “Am I allowed to wear the apron without Lysandra making faces behind my back?”

_Oh_. She got it. Aelin shook her head, shaking off the strange sensation that had settled over her. “Sorry, gardener boy, but the heckling’s not gonna stop for a while. You did come from the worst place imaginable.”

She paused. “But, for the record. You’re in. With me, at least. And I’m the one that matters.”

Rowan nodded appreciatively. “Good to know.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

 

Stag and Stars was closed for Fourth of July weekend. Thankfully, for Aelin, this year the fourth fell on a Monday, so hopefully her customers (and employees) would get drunk on the long weekend and be back in business by a Tuesday.

The whole drinking thing-she was no exception. Lysandra was coming over, they were gonna watch a movie, and where Lysandra goes, so does a bottle of Hennessy.

“Babe,” said Lys as Aelin let her in through the back entrance. “I am _so_ excited we get to spend this time together.”

“Sure you are.” said Aelin, leading her up to her apartment. She flopped down on the pullout couch. “How have you been?”

Lysandra headed to a cabinet, where she got glasses, and poured out the whiskey. “Alright. You?”

Aelin shrugged. “Good, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” she took a glass from Lysandra gratefully, and turned on the TV. “And dancing?”

Lys grimaced. She was currently employed at as a dancer at one of the slightly classier strip clubs in town. It was the only way for her to afford her own place, but was hell on her health. She got maybe three or four hours of sleep a night, working both a day and a night job.

Aelin sighed. “I wish we could hire more people. If we started operating on shifts you could at least sleep a couple more hours during the day. Do you have to leave tonight?”

“No.” said Lys. “I took off. And no, you are not hiring more people. Y’all can barely afford the three of us, especially with Elide’s tuition.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

Lys bit her lip. “Aelin...do you ever want to, well, _not_ pay such a large amount of money for her? I know she’s family, and I love her, but you can barely afford to lease the building. I don’t want you running yourself into the ground like...”

“What, like you do?” Aelin smiled at her. “When I had nothing, she and Aedion were there for me. I gotta be there for her too. Also, she promised that when she starts making bank as a highly specialized surgeon she’ll buy me a car.”

“Can you _drive_ a car?”

“Not the point, Lys.”

“Okay.” said Lysandra, conceding. “Alcohol?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Aelin sat back, contemplative. “You know, things kinda have been going well recently.”

“Hm!” Lysandra put down her glass and straightened. “I meant to talk to you about that!”

“What?”

“The Rowan thing!”

“What Rowan thing?” asked Aelin, amused.

“The volte-face you did with him. You two are way more than civil now.” Lysandra nodded, eyes wide. “Honestly, none of us thought you’d make it this far without hitting him. Hard! In the face!”

“He’s not so bad.” said Aelin, smiling. “When he listens to me, that is. Did I tell you about the performance review?”

A strange smile stretched across Lysandra’s face. “Twice now.”

“No changes! He recommended no changes, _and_ to have that stupid flaxseed and chai tea removed. God. I never thought he’d, well, be impartial to me.”

“I think you grew on him too.” said Lysandra. “He’s probably talking to that new manager of his,whatever his name is, and he’s saying-” she did a very deep and surprisingly accurate Rowan impression. “-’that Galathynius girl, she’s not so bad. When she listens to me.’”

“Which is never, let’s be real.” said Aelin. “Can you please do that voice in front of him once?”

“Sure, babe.”

“I wanna be there too.”

* * *

 

When Aelin came down the next morning, Lysandra still snoring in her bed, she was surprised to see Aedion and Rowan, sitting at the bar. There was a heavy atmosphere around the two. Aedion looked stricken.

“Hey.” said Aelin, smoothing down her hair. She was still in pajamas, but had come down to get coffee started for her and Lys. “What’s up?”

Aedion looked up at her, and his expression was so tightly controlled Aelin immediately knew something was wrong. Rowan was still staring at his hands, folded on the table. His silver hair was disheveled in a way that could only mean a sleepless night, his eyes were narrowed and he was gripping his hands so tightly she could see the tension all the way up in his forearm.

“What happened?” she asked, sitting in front of them and catching Aedion’s hands in her own.

He didn’t respond.

“Aedion?” she said sharply. Aelin squeezed his hands. “Hey. Look at me.”

Nothing. She turned to Rowan. “What _happened_?”

“I got a call.” said Rowan, his voice raspy. He shook his head. “From the Wendlyn board.”

Aelin stood up. She was starting to understand, and the world was going very slow for her.

“Aelin.” said Rowan, standing as well. “Wait.”

She took a step back. “What happened?”

“They’re-” his voice cracked. “They’re dropping Stag and Stars.”

She nodded, slowly. That’s what she had thought.

“It’s only been a month.” said Aedion desperately. “Only a month. How could they possibly decide based on our profit for a month?”

Rowan shook his head, eyes still fixed on Aelin. “I don’t know.”

Aelin stepped to the side and faced the wall. She raised a shaking hand to her temple and then to her lips.

“Can we fight this?” said Aedion, incensed. “Can’t we...petition the board? Or something?”

“That’s not really how Wendlyn does things.”  
“Then bring out your fucking pocket contract, Whitethorn, there _has_ to be some kind of measure...”

Their voices faded away. Aelin was staring at the specials board, written in golden chalk and Lysandra’s bubbly script. A faint memory from five, six years ago came flitting to the forefront of her mind. Back at Rifthold, Dorian wrote all the sign boards, since he had the nicest handwriting. Dorian, unfortunately, couldn’t spell for the life of him, and Chaol replaced the words he messed up with his careful block writing. It had looked so strange and out of place to Aelin until she got to know them properly. And then, then it made sense.

_She had enough money saved up for Elide’s next semester._

Lysandra had worked at Rifthold for a few months before quitting when their manager began to hit on her incessantly. They had been Aelin’s final months at the cafe as well. But when Lys offered to write their sign boards in her nice handwriting, Dorian and Chaol had firmly refused. They had insisted it was just the charm of the place, at this point. And Aelin had been right with them.

_If she moved into a small place and saved money on her lease, she might have enough to help pay the following semester as well._

But Aelin had promised, _promised_ Lysandra sign writing privileges here. It was the first thing she said when she asked her to come work for S &S.

_She wouldn’t have enough money for food if she paid the next two semesters. Even if she got another job, Aedion too, the investment that was this coffee shop was too strong-_

“Aelin!” said a sharp voice, bringing her back to reality in heart shattering high definition.

Aelin huffed out a breathless exhale as a hand wrenched her around to look into the harsh green eyes of Rowan Whitethorn. She kept a hand pressed to her mouth, so hard that no pitiful sound could escape.

He looked down at her, seeming to be on the verge of some kind of emotion-frustration or upset or maybe even pity, Aelin couldn’t tell.

“Say something.” he said, voice quieter, but just as harsh.

Aelin opened her mouth, and closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. “Lysandra’s asleep in my bed.”

Rowan blinked, surprised. “Okay.”

“So I should go wake her.” said Aelin, desperate for some sort of escape. She pulled away from Rowan.

“No,” said Aedion, getting up. “I’ll do it.”

“I’ll go...” said Aelin helplessly, but he was already half way up the stairs.

Rowan took her hand, and the rough skin sliding against her own shocked her into remember the first time he had took her hand, in Doranelle, five years ago. “Come on.”

He walked her around the bar and to a chair. “Sit.”

Aelin sat, but bypassed the chair entirely and slid to the floor, her back against the bar. Rowan, after a beat, sat down right next to her.

“Say something.” he said again.

“I don’t-” Aelin paused, thinking. “I don’t know what you want me to do right now. To feel right now. Am I supposed to cry? Or dry heave, or something? I’m a dry sobber, personally. Just letting you know.”

Her voice was coming out so _cold_.

“Or do you want me to get angry? Demand that we fight this, that _I_ fight this. Do you want me to rouse some sort of revolution against the company? Cause I...I’m not that person.”

How could she explain it? That after everything, Aelin simply felt too numb to react. Stag and Stars had been legacy, had been her happiness. Her constant _fuck you_ to the world that had treated her family so terribly. With that gone, there was nothing left but the angry, broken girl she used to be.

Rowan interlaced their fingers, holding her hand tightly, his other hand coming up to tilt her face towards him. “I need you to talk to me.” he said, voice low. “You can do that for me, right?”

The wording was so damn specific, Aelin felt a wave of bitter hurt pool up inside her. For _him_ . She could do it _for him_. What he needed. Like he understood her well enough to realize that she was currently too empty to even attempt to do something for herself.

“Tell me what to say.”

“Say anything.”

So she did.

“You know, Lysandra did those.” said Aelin softly.

Rowan looked at her. “What?”

“Those. The detailing.” Aelin pointed towards the golden swirls painted around the chair and table legs in front of them, how the gold paint almost glowed in the early sunrise. “I told her not to, cause we didn't know if the store was even going to be successful. I said there was no way we could resell the furniture if it was so personalized.”

“And then?” asked Rowan.

“And then I get downstairs the next morning, and there was gold everywhere. And Lys was looking at me, so innocently, from behind the bar. There was gold paint in her hair and everything. And she told me, straight up, she told me that the shop will succeed. She said she wasn't going to let it fail. I believed her, even _you_ would've if you had been there. The look in her eyes...she was so proud of herself. Of us. What we did together. How was I supposed to yell at her, with her looking like that?”

Aelin drew a deep, shuddering breath, closing her eyes. “We're never gonna be able to resell this furniture.”

His reaction was immediate. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her tightly into his chest into some mockery of a hug, Aelin suddenly found that her world had narrowed to the soft gray cotton of his shirt and the way her face was currently pressed against it.

“Is it time for the dry heaving?” she asked, voice muffled against the cotton.

His voice was loud and clear, but his grip on her tightened. “Shut up.”

“Rowan.”

“Yes?”

She rested her head against him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let go for a while. “What are you thinking?”

There was a long pause, and Aelin could feel his chest rise and fall with the deep, deep breath he took.

“You didn’t deserve this.”

* * *

 

Aelin didn’t come back to life as Aedion had called her people, her friends to the cafe that morning. She didn’t come back to life as he told them all, until they wore the same, awful, horrible stricken expressions.

She didn’t wake up until Elide _flinched_ , face harried with guilt and worry, tears welling up in her eyes.

It was like a switch flipped in her brain. Aelin stood, and looked at her. “Stop.” she said, voice even and measured.

Elide looked away, a hand against her mouth. Manon was immediately by her side, a gentle hand on her arm.

“Stop.” said Aelin again. “Whatever false guilt you feel is just that. _False_.”

“Aelin.” Elide said, voice overcome with emotion.

“Chill out.” she replied. She turned to Aedion, who was looking tired and incredibly grateful she was speaking again. “Sorry,” she said to him, before looking back at all of them. “We’re not gonna let this go.”

Chaol, expression like a thundercloud, gave her a sharp smile. Nesryn, on the arm of his chair, nodded, eyes cold. Dorian and Elide glanced at each other, and then back at Aelin, in complete solidarity. The sadness was slowly sliding off Elide’s face, and she took Manon’s hand as they wore identical expressions of harsh calculation.

Aedion’s eyes were bright.

Aelin turned to Rowan, standing at the edge of the group, obviously unsure if he should be there. She smiled at him, and nodded at him to come closer. “Hey,” she said, voice light. “I could really use that pocket contract right about now.”

* * *

 

He could’ve kissed her right then and there.

* * *

 

Pocket contract spread out on the table with three aspiring 2Ls staring at it, Aelin turned back to Rowan.

“Gardener boy.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, and she considered that a win.

“What?”

“I’m gonna need some nepotism right about now.”

That one got a full smile out of him. “I keep telling you, I don’t use nepotism.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Your aunt runs Wendlyn?”

“Yes.”

“Maeve Banrion?”

“Yes.”

Aelin smiled, wide and bright. “So you can get me her number?”

He didn’t mean to do it. Rowan stuck by that, much later: he didn’t mean to do it. He honestly had no idea why, but his hand reached into his pocket for his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and settled on ‘Aunt Maeve’, followed by the skull and lipstick emoji.

He handed her the phone, and she laughed, surprised. “You use emojis?”

“Sometimes.”

“My god.” said Aelin, absolutely delighted. “What am I?”

Rowan took the phone back and scrolled up to ‘Aelin Galathynius’, followed by the upside down smiley face, the sun, and several lightning bolts.

She let out another bark of laughter. “What does that even mean?”

He shrugged. “It’s pretty you.”

“It _is_!”

“Are you gonna use my aunt’s personal line or what?”

Aelin shot him a quick, absolutely genuine, grateful look before copying down Maeve’s number into her phone and calling her.

“This isn’t smart.” said Chaol, leaning down to speak into Dorian’s ear. Dorian, wearing a taped up pair of reading glasses and a disgruntled expression, shrugged.

“Eh. She’ll pull it off.”

“Hi. Maeve Banrion?” said Aelin into the phone with a falsely cheery voice. “My name is Aelin Galathynius. I run a business your company has recently acquired, and I have some concerns.”

She paused, her customer service smile firmly on her face. “Oh, I understand the protocol is different-how did I get this number?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan. “I’m _very_ resourceful.”

 

After a terrifying fifteen minute phone call, Aelin managed to walk out with a access to set up a private meeting with Maeve herself, completely bypassing the board assigned to oversee S&S.

“Thank you. I’ll call the main company immediately.” said Aelin, still using her service voice. She hung up, and turned to the rest of the store, who had been waiting in pin drop silence.

“No fuckin’ way.” said Chaol.

Manon leaned in to whisper in Rowan’s ear. “She got waitlisted at Harvard Law.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I believe that now.”

“Actually, she got waitlisted as a mistake. Harvard called her, apologized, said she should’ve been accepted immediately, and offered her another thousand as scholarship.”

“My god.” said Rowan.

Manon nodded sagely.”You see why I want her to go back to school so much?”

“Yeah.” said Rowan. He grinned. “But I like her here.”

Manon snorted loudly. “Yeah you do.”

* * *

 

Almost everything Aelin was wearing was borrowed.

Classic black Roger Vivier pumps from Manon. Black jacket from Lysandra, hairpieces from Nesryn. Aedion’s thick watch on her wrist. The velvet black dress she wore underneath was hers, and it was knee length, professional, and sleek enough to complement the ensemble. She had done everyday foundation for makeup, as well as business casual eyeliner and shocking red lipstick. Aelin’s final touch had been a simple golden chain around her neck. It had been her father’s.

She looked good.

Aelin headed outside, to where her people were waiting for her. The only person going with her to this meeting was Rowan, as Maeve had figured out who had leaked her number within two seconds and insisted on seeing him as well.

A savage smile crept onto Lysandra’s face. “You look terrifying.”

“You look good as hell.” said Dorian. “God. If you don’t get that look off your face you’re going to scare the entire building.”

“What look?” asked Aelin, but she knew. Ever since that morning, her face seemed to settle in battle mode.

“My aunt’s got an even worse face.” said Rowan, from behind them. He stepped forward, professional in a dark green dress shirt and black slacks. Aelin looked at him appreciatively. It was the first time she had seen him in anything other than jeans.

“You clean up well.” she said. It was suddenly very difficult to look at him. Or to look away. In general, looking at things was suddenly hard.

She kinda wished he’d put the apron back on.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” said Rowan, all cool and clean professionalism. “Shall we.”

Aelin cracked her neck. She looked at her friends once more, all with battle face on. She shot them a grin. “Let’s go.”

The cab ride to Wendlyn headquarters was tense. Aelin and Rowan somehow reached for each other’s hands at the same time, and they spent the ride with their hands joined and resting in the space on the seat between them.

“You got your story straight?” he asked her as they walked into the building.

“Yeah.” breathed Aelin. She almost wasn’t ready to do this. Put her lawyer face on. Act like some rich girl again.

Rowan touched her elbow, grounding, reassuring. “You got this.”

“Yeah.” said Aelin again, eyeing the receptionist. “I got this.”

She stalked up to the desk, thanking God and also Manon for the shoes-they really made a difference in the confidence factor. “Excuse me.” she said sharply.

The receptionist was taking calls, and barely looked up at her.

Aelin smiled, brittle and cold. She reached down and hit the hold button on the receptionist’s phone. The young woman looked up, surprised and angry.

“I have a two o’ clock with Maeve Banrion.” said Aelin, voice like ice.

The receptionist quailed. “I’ll...send you right up, Miss Galathynius.”

“Thank you.” said Aelin. She held out her arm for Rowan to take, and he obliged.

“You’re really scary in that dress.” he murmured quietly.

“I’m always scary.”

“I’ve seen you in jeans and a Lion King tank top.” said Rowan. He paused, glancing down at her. “And you were terrifying in _that_ , so...”

She smiled. “Thank you for being here.”

“It wasn’t really my choice.”

“Thank you anyway.”

They were lead up to a huge office, and told to sit. Aelin did, right in front of an empty desk. Rowan stood, slightly to her left.

Five minutes later, the door opened and slammed shut. It took all of Aelin’s willpower not to turn and look. She kept her gaze firmly on the leather chair behind the desk until a petite dark haired woman sat down at it.

Aelin knew what Rowan had meant instantly. Maeve was short, but radiated power and class. She wasn’t smiling, either. She had on the most impressive look of disinterest Aelin had ever seen.

“Aelin Galathynius.” said Maeve, in the driest voice possible.

“Maeve Banrion.” said Aelin. She did not offer her hand. Neither did Maeve. “It’s a pleasure.”

“I’m sure.” said Maeve. “Your harassment proved effective.”

“To be fair, I only called you one.” said Aelin, with a wry smile.

“To be fair.” repeated Maeve. “Alright. You wanted to talk? Let’s _talk_.”

* * *

 

“Thus concludes my pitch.” said Aelin, sliding the carefully printed charts off Maeve’s desk. “I stand by what I said-letting go of Stag and Stars was a mistake. Possibly the worst one you and your company could ever make.”

“And why’s that?” asked Maeve. She gestured at the charts. “Losing one business's revenue, no matter how great, will hardly cripple the company.”

Aelin smiled. “You’ll be losing one of the only non chain restaurants you have. That says a lot, especially to the crowd you currently serve.”

Maeve raised an eyebrow. “The crowd I serve?”

“State college students in their 20’s, mostly without high incomes.” Aelin paused. “Hipsters.” she added, for clarification.

Behind her, she could _feel_ Rowan stifle a laugh.

Maeve leaned back. “You made a good case.” she said.

“I wasn’t done.” said Aelin, and her voice went cold. “You won’t just lose that customer base, you’ll lose something else. Me.”

“You?”

“Yeah.” said Aelin. “Business is in my blood, Maeve, as you very well know. And as sole survivor of the Galathynius real estate empire, I am _not_ someone you want to alienate.”

Maeve smiled a cold, thin smile. “I was wondering if you were going to bring that up.”

Aelin said nothing, just looked at her with a steely gaze.

“I knew your parents.”

“I know you did.”

“Your mother always impressed me.” continued Maeve. “You look a great deal like her. It seems you’ve inherited her _spine_.”

“You know, genetics.” said Aelin.

“But she would have never taken a risk like calling me. From my nephew’s cell phone. No, that’s all Rhoe.”

Aelin’s only reaction to her father’s name was a slight clench of the jaw. “It very nice that you remember them so well, and so fondly. But I came here to discuss something else.”

Maeve nodded. “It was a good pitch.”

“And?”

“And I accept.” said the CEO. “We’ll have to change certain aspects of your contract. You’re wasted simply working a manager’s position. We’ll establish you _in the company_ , and review your store’s situation.”

It felt like selling her soul, but it was the best she was gonna get. “Thank you.” said Aelin, standing.

Maeve stood as well. “Pleasure doing business with you. It’s good to see your parent’s legacy won’t fall short because of me.”

‘Well.” said Aelin. “That’s not up to you. No offense, but I’d have found a way.”

She reached over and shook Maeve’s hand and turned to go. Rowan began to follow her, but Maeve called out.

“Not you, nephew. Stay for a moment.”

Aelin looked at him, and he shrugged before taking her seat. She nodded, unspoken thanks flowing between them. She walked out without another word, and took a seat downstairs in the busy atrium to wait for him.

She all but collapsed. The sheer weight of Maeve’s presence had almost overwhelmed her, but she had held out. Aelin, exhausted, texted a single word to Aedion; ‘Excelsior’.

Rowan spent fifteen minutes up there, and seeing him cross the atrium floor towards her was the most refreshing sight she’d seen all week.

Aelin exhaled loudly, standing up and starting to limp over (the _shoes_ ), arms outstretched for a hug.

He smiled at her, and the silver accents were doing _wonders_ for his stupid dyed hair, and the the tattoos were just the right juxtapositioning against his clothing, and _god_ . It was like all the laughs and the small touches and the weird telepathy between them came to a screeching halt as Aelin realized that she. She wanted him. Pretty badly. Worse than that, she _liked_ him.

The realization hit her like a truck, but she didn’t have anytime to recover before he swept her up in his arms, holding her tightly.

“I told you that you had it.” he said against her ear.

Aelin felt herself turning bright, bright red. Shit. _Shit,_ what? “Thanks.” she said, voice weird and uneven, and _oh my god_.

“You were amazing.” said Rowan pulling back, fierce pride in his eyes.

Another realization crept up. “You knew.”

He nodded. “About your parents? Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No.” said Aelin. “No. I mean, my friends all know. It just took a while for me and Aedion and Elide to tell them.”

Rowan nodded. “I figured out why your last name sounded so familiar about a week into you opening Stag and Stars.”

“God, you must’ve loved that.” Aelin linked arms with him, ignoring the feeling in her stomach, and steered him to the exit.

“You bet. My biggest competitor was the daughter of my aunt’s biggest competitor?”

Aelin laughed.

“Did you tell the kids yet?”

“Yeah.” said Aelin, hailing a cab. “Aedion’s probably pulling out the party decorations right about now.”

“Good.” said Rowan. “I’d love to see that.”

* * *

 

The party was in full swing by the time they got home, and by ‘party’, Aelin meant the full red solo cup disaster going on in her cafe. Also, some idiot brought a karaoke machine.

“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS,” yelled Dorian, tears streaming down his face as Aelin and Rowan walked in. Everyone looked already incredibly drunk. “MY FRIEENDS.”

“How are all of you already this far gone?” laughed Aelin.

Nesryn, a coherent drunk, answered. “We started before we got word of your victory. The suspense was bad, Chaol was biting his nails. We figured bad news drunk is whatever.”

“Well.” said Aelin. “I suppose I’ll have to catch up?”

“That’s my girl.” sighed Nesryn. “Lys is making you a drink as we speak.”

Lysandra, by the bar, waved.

“You too.” said Aelin, tugging at Rowan’s sleeve. “I want to see you drunk.”

“It’s not too big a difference.” he answered, but he allowed her to drag him to the bar and hand him a shot of vodka.

“Find me in a half hour and we’ll find out.” said Aelin, beaming as Chaol and Dorian wrestled her up to the karaoke machine for a three way performance of Bohemian Rhapsody.

 

She did find him a half hour later, and unfortunately he was right. Rowan looked exactly the same, still lounging by the bar, exchanging gossip with Lysandra.

“What is this?” she exclaimed. Aelin turned to Lys. “You’ve been feeding him, right?”

“He’s six shots in.” said Lys helplessly. “He’s got a very good tolerance.”

“This is me drunk.” deadpanned Rowan.

“Fuck off.” said Aelin. “Are you celebrating, at least?”

And then Rowan looked at her up and down, in the way guys do when they think they’re being subtle. Aelin was normally pretty accustomed to dealing with that, but she had never been looked at with such...lack of subtlety. It was in fact, incredibly obvious as he dragged the heavy weight of his gaze down past the velvet dress and down to her bare feet (the heels were deposited in some corner as soon as possible) before meeting her eyes again.

She was holding her breath, straight up shock coursing through her. What the hell was that? “Maybe,” she started. “Getting you drunk was a bad idea.”

“You dug your own grave here, Galathynius.” said Rowan, still looking at her with some smug, appreciative eye.

“Wanna sing?” she asked weakly, pointing to the karaoke.

He smiled, knowing, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m good.”

“Right.” Aelin swallowed.

Lysandra gasped loudly with delight, bringing both Aelin and Rowan’s attention to her.

“What’s up, Lys?”

She looked delighted. “Elide invited that girl Dorian’s hot for. He’s trying to hide under that table, I think.”

Aelin followed her gaze to the pretty newcomer, a girl with siena skin and dark brown hair, happily chatting with Elide. “Oh, her? She gets the iced coffee in December. I know her.”

“Her name’s Sorscha.” said Lys happily. “I’m gonna push Dorian into her.”

She hurried towards where Dorian was indeed trying to hide behind Chaol, leaving Aelin alone with Rowan.

“Is this how you normally have parties?” he asked, leaning in close.

“We don’t normally have parties.” admitted Aelin. “ _Nothing_ like you Doranelle crowd.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, no no.” she laughed. “You are not excused for that. Like, two years ago, on New Year’s-”

“Oh my god.” said Rowan, closing his eyes.

“-you throw this blowout party for your friends, it’s so loud that I know it didn’t end until five in the morning, _and_ -”

“Please don’t.”

“-and when I finally go outside to yell at you I see you. Rowan Whitethorn. In the street _making out_ with your Lady Remelle.”

“This is not something I’m proud of.”

“And the sight was so disgusting I had to go back inside and wash out my eyes.”

Rowan pinched his brow. “Look, this is why I don’t drink often.”

“What?” said Aelin. “You hook up with  Remelle every time you get drunk?”

He looked up, the shame on his face apparent. Aelin’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Yeah...”

“I mean, I knew she was into you, but _damn_ , Whitethorn.”

“It’s always an accident.” said Rowan helplessly. “And we haven’t since that New Year’s party, actually.”

“So cold.”

“Oh, it wasn’t like that, quit-”

She smiled at his protest, shoving down the pit in her stomach. “Come on, I want to talk to this Sorscha girl.”

“I want to watch Lysandra shove Dorian into her.” said Rowan immediately. Aelin realized very early into their partnership that Rowan got a kick out of everything Lysandra did, as long as it wasn’t directed towards him. “Let’s go.”

 

The party raged on for a couple more hours, but when Nesryn, yawning said she had to prepare for the next morning’s day and went home, she started a chain of adults realizing they couldn’t stay up until three anymore.

“I’ll be here in like. Two hours anyway.” said Aedion, planting a sloppy kiss on her forehead before straight up dropping and falling asleep on an armchair. Lysandra was already gone, and was quietly snoring next to him.

Chaol hefted a passed out Dorian over his shoulder and said goodbye. Manon was walking a tired Elide home.

“I should go too.” said Rowan, picking up his coat from the floor.

Aelin smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“See you tomorrow?”

She hesitated briefly, but leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. _Thank you_. “See you tomorrow.”

Rowan, surprised but looking happy about it, nodded to her and left.

Aelin dragged herself upstairs and into bed without a second thought.

* * *

 

The next morning, a thankfully hangover free Aelin showered in record time, shoved on the first pair of clothes she could find and headed downstairs hopefully to wake up Aedion and Lysandra.

When she got down there, however, the scent of fresh coffee hit her hard. Aelin blinked. Had Aedion seriously woken up already?

Further investigation found Rowan Whitethorn, already in his green apron, starting a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. He looked up at her.

‘Hey.”

“Hey?” said Aelin, confused.

“Aedion let me in.” he said. “And then promptly went back to sleep. I just figured I’d get a head start on this before.”

Aelin surged forward, not letting herself think about it, and dragged him down by the shirt for a kiss.

It was a small point of contact-the lightest kiss, and still somehow it felt like _finally_. Aelin sighed the word into his mouth and withdrew slightly as his arms came to wrap around her waist.

“Sorry.” she said. “I wanted to do that last night, but we were drinking, and it just didn’t seem like a good idea-”

Rowan cut her off by pressing his lips to hers again for a short, hard moment. “Thank god.” he said, and they were off again, Aelin’s hands still gripping his shirt tightly.

At some point, he backed her into a kitchen counter, and at some point his hands settled under her shirt and on the skin of her hips. Aelin was trying to figure out how to get the stupid apron off of him without separating their mouths when reality hit.

She pulled away again. “Um.”

Rowan sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Yes?”

“Our friends are passed out in our storefront.” said Aelin, unclenching her hands from his shirt and dropping them. “Maybe...”

“Hm.” Rowan leaned in for another quick kiss. “Okay.”

“Later.” she said.

He dropped his hands. “There will be a later?”

Aelin took his hand and interlaced their fingers. She smiled up at him, and lead him out into the store, where Aedion and Lysandra still slept and the mess of last night awaited them. “Yes, there will be a later, Rowan.”

“Right.” he said. “After all. We only have an hour until opening.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all liked it?? it was my first attempt at the quintessential coffee shop au. Also introducing my new crack ship. Kaltain/Nehemia forever.
> 
> peace <3 talk to me about it at cosmicrhetoric on tumblr


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